The first thing Hawkins was aware of was the sound of a chain rattling. It sounded very far away, but gradually the metallic clanging sharpened, and it became apparent that it was, in fact, right next to her ear. She sucked in a ragged breath and forced her eyes open. The pain caused her vision to blur, and stars danced before her eyes. The chain remained wrapped around her forearm, the force of her abrupt ascent had caused it to bite deeply into her flesh, and blood flowed freely down her arm. Based on the unnatural angle of the limb, it was clearly broken, probably in a few places, Hawkins could feel the bones grind together as she shifted. She glanced up, she was only a few feet from where the chain was attached to the ceiling, but at least the crate had hit the floor before she’d been caught in the pulley.
“Hawkins! Taylor! Come on, answer me, are you alright?” Stone’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.
She was pretty sure that Stone had never called her by her first name before. He must be concerned.
“I’m fine,” Hawkins managed to gasp. “Just give me a second.”
Looking down, she observed the results of her gamble. The crate had hit the floor hard, but it was of sturdy construction, so, though it had splintered and cracked on impact, it had retained its shape pretty well. Lying beneath it, splayed out on the floor, was Harrison Blake; or to be more precise, half of Harrison Blake. The crate had come down right on top of him, striking him in the middle of the back, his lower back and legs were buried beneath the mass of splintered wood. A stream of glistening blood ran from his mouth and nose, and he was perfectly still. Well, that was one less thing to worry about, for the moment. Hawkins wrapped the chain around one bare leg, like she was climbing a rope in gym class, then she reached up with her good arm, grabbed the chain above her left arm and pulled herself up an inch. The little bit of slack loosened the chain enough to allow her to shake her trapped arm free, but every movement sent a fresh wave of agony through her. The chain had cut deeply and the blood running down her arm dripped onto her face and into her eyes as she struggled to wrench it free. Finally, the last loop of chain came free, and her arm dropped limply to her side. Hawkins shimmied her way down the chain with just her legs and good arm, thankful that the pain and pursuant rush of adrenaline was counteracting the weakness in her limbs. Still, it was slow going, and as she finally touched the ground, her legs buckled instantly. She had to rest for a long moment, before she was able to push herself back to her feet. Leaning on the large wooden crate for support, then she bent over Blake’s prostrate form. Pressing her fingers into his throat, she searched for a pulse, but found nothing. He was dead. It wasn’t the optimal outcome, but it was fitting, she supposed. She hadn’t forgotten that he had vowed to get even with her, but it seemed that he had forgotten her promise. Well, it was certainly finished now. Sighing, Hawkins straightened.
“He’s dead,” she informed Stone. “The crate likely severed his spine. Quick and relatively painless.”
“Better than he deserved,” Stone spat.
“It would have been better for us if he was still alive. We can’t get anything out of him this way,” she blew hair out of her face.
“Well, we couldn’t have gotten anything out of him if we were dead, either,” Stone replied. “You did what you had to.”
“I know,” Hawkins bent and picked up Blake’s knife, which had fallen to the floor in front of his outstretched hand. “Still.”
Hawkins limped over to where Stone was tied and cut the ropes binding his wrists.
“Can you get your ankles?” Hawkins asked, she offered the knife handle.
“Yeah, of course,” Stone took the knife from her with quivering hands.
Hawkins stumbled back across the room and retrieved her shirt and pants. The shirt was badly torn, she certainly couldn’t wear it, but that wasn’t her plan anyway. She tore it into strips with her teeth and began to wind them tightly around her arm to stem the bleeding. She had just finished tying the knot in the cloth to hold it in place when Stone came up behind her and draped his own shirt over her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she replied, slipping her arms through the sleeves and buttoning up the front. “Think you could do me one more favour?”
“What do you need?” Stone brushed a speck of lint from his undershirt, averting his eyes to give her privacy.
“I need you to pop my shoulder back into place for me.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t know how to do that!”
“I’ll talk you through it.”
“Shouldn’t you do this in a hospital?” he hesitated.
“Yes, but we don’t have time for that. Did you see how Blake checked his watch when I asked about the endgame? It was an involuntary reaction. Something is happening today. Soon. We need to figure out what it is and how we can stop it, before it is too late. So, just come over here and snap it back into place. I could do it myself, but it will be faster if you help.”
“Alright, what do I do?” he relented.
“I am going to hold my arm, like this. You take it, bend it 90 degrees with my forearm in front of my chest, like this.”
Stone complied, gently manipulating the injured arm. Hawkins made a fist, then continued.
“Ok, now hold my wrist and pull it out away from my body. Keep pulling until I tell you to stop. Do not stop if you think you are hurting me. You are hurting me, I guarantee it, but it can’t be avoided, so let’s just get it over with quickly, ok?”
Stone nodded, took a deep breath and then began to pull her arm firmly outward. Hawkins flinched, it hurt like hell, but after a few moments, she felt the joint slip back into place and the relief was immediate.
“Ok, you can stop,” she gasped.
Stone let go of her arm and she gently turned it back and rested it in front of her body again. It was still badly broken, but at least it was now minimally functional.
“So, do you need a sling or something?”
“Nah, I might need this arm,” she replied. “And actually there is medical evidence that slings don’t really help much. I’ll just try to avoid moving it unnecessarily.”
“If you say so,” Stone shrugged. “So, what now?”
“Help me see if we can find anything on Blake,” Hawkins replied, moving towards the body.
“That’s going to be a bit tricky,” Stone sighed, looking over the heavy crate.
“Yup,” Hawkins agreed.
They turned towards the body, but suddenly, she froze.
“Do you hear that?” she whispered to Stone.
“Sounds like a ring tone,” he said softly.
“Help me find it. Quickly, before it stops.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
They spread out in the warehouse, following the ringing cell phone. After a moment, Stone called her over. He was inside a small room off of the main warehouse, which seemed to be some sort of maintenance room, if the rusted tools scattered on the floor were any indication. The space inside was mostly occupied by a large tool cabinet and a rickety folding table. On the table in the center of the room, Hawkins saw her knife, car keys, cell phone, backpack and a variety of other items Blake had taken from them. Stone extracted Blake’s cell phone from a coat hanging on the back of the lone chair in the room, though it was too late to answer the call.
“Who was it?” Hawkins asked, retrieving her items from the table.
“Well, that figures,” Stone snorted. “James Darien.”
“Looking for his protégé, I imagine.”
“There’s a text: ‘You had better be finished with your diversion, I won’t wait much longer. Get to the office now, and don’t forget the plans.’ You were right, something is about to happen, Hawkins. Darien’s circling the wagons.”
“Yeah, but what is he planning?” she chewed her lip absently. “How long were we out, anyways?”
Stone checked the time on the phone,
“Jesus, almost 32 hours,” he replied.
“Fuck,” Hawkins cursed. “Anything could have happened in that much time. Are there any more texts between the two of them? We need to know what they’ve been doing.”
“Let me check,” Stone scrolled through the phone. “Oh my god!”
“What?”
“Blake sent this text 4 hours ago,” Stone passed her the phone so she could see the picture for herself.
Hawkins saw a woman, bleeding from a head wound, bound on the floor of a van. The caption read: I have the girl, see you in 15.
The response from Darien read: Park the van by the service entrance.
Hawkins looked up at Stone, he was very pale.
“Isn’t that…?”
“Amanda,” Stone swallowed hard.
“Well, she might not be dead,” Hawkins replied. “From the looks of it, Darien wanted her brought to him alive, which likely means…”
“That she’s bait for Cross,” Stone concluded.
“Yeah.”
“So, we just have to go to the agency, find her and get her back, right?”
Stone met her eyes, silently begging her to agree.
“Right. But we need to figure out what his game is first. Let’s see if we can find those plans the message mentioned,” Hawkins paused. “You going to be alright?”
“I’m fine,” Stone replied tersely.
They started searching the room. Reaching into the other pocket of Blake’s jacket, she found a gun,
“Son of a bitch!” she cursed again.
“What is it?”
“This is my damn gun!” Hawkins exclaimed.
“Yours?” Stone sounded puzzled for a moment. “The one Martin took?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if there was any doubt, that pretty much takes care of it, eh?”
“Bloody hell! I can’t believe he had my gun this whole time,” Hawkins checked the weapon; everything seemed to be in order, so she tucked it into her belt. “Guess I won’t be needing that replacement after all.”
“Hey! These might be the plans they were talking about,” Stone exclaimed.
The papers were tucked behind the door, rolled up in a cardboard tube. Stone handed them to her, and Hawkins spread them on the table. It was a set of technical drawings or blueprints and what they depicted made her heart stop for an instant.
“Is this what I think it is?” Stone gulped.
“Yeah. It’s a bomb,” Hawkins bit down on her lip until it hurt. “And not an ordinary bomb either, this is a biological weapon. Based on this, it looks like it is designed to aerosolize weaponized anthrax, to disperse it into the air.”
“Holy shit!”
“Yeah, this is bad. Much worse than the usual Parabellum murders. This could kill hundreds, even thousands of people, depending how the wind is blowing. Why would he have escalated to this degree?”
Stone dropped into the chair and rubbed his face with his hands.
“My guess?” he muttered. “Darien has been doing this for a while. His is in his sixties now…”
“He’s almost retirement age,” Hawkins realized.
“Exactly. So, this could be his last big show, taking out as many agents as he can, his final grand act as Parabellum. He probably was intending to spend more time building up to this, but when he found out we were on to him he had to bump up his timeline.”
“Makes sense,” Hawkins mused. “So, this is happening today at headquarters, based on his text to Blake. From the looks of this blueprint, the device is rigged to release its payload when someone opens a door of some sort, see that picture right here?” Hawkins pointed to the paper.
“That seems to be in the basement kitchen, you can see that it’s circled on this building schematic,” Stone added, pointing to another page.
“If Darien stays true to form, he’ll want the person who triggers it to be Ethan Cross. Which means, he likely abducted Amanda to use her as a way to get him to open that door. Then they’ll both die, and so will everyone else in the building. Maybe more than that,” Hawkins frowned. “Putting the responsibility for the incident on Cross would be exactly like Darien, it would prove that he had beaten Cross, and everyone else. The time it takes Cross to die a painful death, would also be time enough for him to suffer for his role in causing mass casualties.”
“Sounds like our guy, all right. But that means all we have to do is get there before Cross does and disarm the device, right? I mean we have the blueprints; we can figure it out.”
“Yeah, that’s really our only option, especially because Darien will be contacting Cross any minute now, based on his last message to Blake. But there is one little problem with that plan.”
“Which is?”
“Well, I am no bomb expert, but look here,” Hawkins pointed at the schematics. “Darien labelled these pretty clearly, probably for Blake’s benefit. It looks like he’s got it rigged for remote detonation as well, just in case anything goes wrong.”
“That SOB just has to prepare for everything, doesn’t he?”
“It seems to be what he’s best at,” Hawkins sighed. “And let’s not forget his job.”
“Chief of security. Damn! He’ll be watching the whole thing on the surveillance cameras. If we try to sneak in and disarm the fucking thing, he’ll see us and detonate it anyway.”
“Yeah, I’d bet on that,” Hawkins said thoughtfully.
“So, we call into the agency, get them to arrest Darien and diffuse the bomb.”
“You want two accused traitors to just call them up and tell them that their head of security is about to fill their building with a lethal bio agent?”
“Ok, that might not work. Still, can’t we at least call in an anonymous tip? Or maybe if I use Blake’s cell, they’ll think it’s him?”
“Ok, that’s worth a try, give it a shot.”
Stone took the phone and punched in the number. After a several moments, a puzzled look crossed his face.
“There’s a busy signal, how is that possible?”
“Try it again.”
“Still nothing. How can it be busy? It’s a switchboard, it routes to every phone in the building.”
“Try another number, try someone’s extension.” Hawkins felt the urgency creeping into her voice, but she couldn’t stop it.
Stone tried, but shook his head.
“Fuck!” Hawkins pounded a fist into the table. “It is just going to be one of those days, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s only one reason that every line in the building would be busy,” Hawkins sucked a breath in through her teeth. “Someone’s put the agency on emergency lockdown. It’s part of the standard safety protocols. Lockdown seals every door and wing of the building; it disables all of the phones and internet and blocks all cell signals from inside the building. It is supposed to prevent invasions from the outside and breakouts from within.”
“Why would it be activated now?”
“Well, if someone wanted to keep outsiders from interfering, and keep everyone in the building from leaving, or calling for help, there is really no better way. An unfortunate side effect of the system. Darien probably called it a drill, to keep people from panicking. I doubt anyone will even be suspicious.”
“So, he’s started already, then. It’s too late.”
Hawkins grabbed her cell phone and punched in Ethan’s number. No answer there either. Stone might be right; it might already be too late. Then suddenly, Blake’s phone buzzed as another text came in. Stone read it, then passed the phone to her.
You took too long. Just contacted Cross, he’s on his way. The rear service door will open for your ID, only. Meet me in the surveillance room. You have 45 minutes. DON’T BE LATE.
“So, we still have time. He wants Blake there, to kill him too, likely,” Stone said. “But what can we do in less than 45 minutes?”
Hawkins thought for a moment, she had an idea, it was extremely risky, but honestly, she couldn’t think of anything else.
“We have no choice. We need to diffuse it ourselves. We can get in if we use Blake’s ID chip.”
“Do you mean that we are actually going to carve it out of him?” Stone cringed and Hawkins thought he looked a little nauseous.
She nodded solemnly.
“But we already discussed this, even if we get in, Darien will just detonate it when he sees us.”
“Not if he doesn’t see us,” Hawkins replied enigmatically.
“You have an invisibility cloak I don’t know about?”
“No, but that isn’t what I meant,” Hawkins reached into Blake’s coat and retrieved his car keys. “I’ll explain on the way, we have to get there fast for this to work.”
“Ok,” Stone turned and headed back out to the warehouse. “I guess we should get it over with.”
He was unable to disguise his disgust. Hawkins decided to take pity on him.
“Relax, I’ll do it. Go get Blake’s van and meet me out front.”
She tossed him the keys and, grabbing a knife, she headed back into the warehouse to retrieve their key to the building.